


The Trouble, It Might Drag You Down

by LibraryMage



Series: Break Your Chains [16]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Character, Autistic Ezra Bridger, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mother-Son Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Post-Episode: s02e10 The Future of the Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: Kanan, Ezra, Zeb, and Ahsoka saved two Force sensitive kids from the Inquisitors, but Ezra knows perfectly well what would have happened if they'd failed.





	The Trouble, It Might Drag You Down

**Author's Note:**

> warning for: references to child abuse, accidental self-injury, references to (canonical) character death

They’d never learned exactly what the Inquisitors had planned on doing with the kids, but Ezra could easily guess the general idea.  They were long gone now, Ahsoka having taken charge of relocating the kids and their families, but Ezra couldn’t get their faces out of his mind.  He could still feel their fear, echoing in his head, coursing through him.  They hadn’t been able to fully understand what was happening, but they had sensed that _something_ was wrong.  They’d known they were in danger.

Ezra had avoided talking to the others during the journey back to Garel.  Kanan and Zeb hadn’t pushed him to.  When they’d returned to the rest of the fleet, Ezra had stepped off the ship to get some air.  He stared up at the night sky above the hangar and found himself wondering where the kids were now, and how Ahsoka was going to keep them safe.  _If_ she was really going to be able to keep them safe.

The thought of those kids in the hands of the Inquisitors, of them being hurt and broken down into nothing while there was no one left to care, _of them growing up like he did…_

Ezra’s fist struck the side of the ship as a shout leapt from his throat.  He slammed his fist against the cold, impassive metal again and again, not acknowledging the burning hot feeling that radiated from his hand up his arm with each strike.

Within seconds, Ezra was suddenly exhausted.  His rage still burned in his chest, but he didn’t have the strength to act on it.  He was breathing heavily as he lowered his hand and he felt like a weight had been tied to him, dragging him down, trying to sink him in a sea of anger and other emotions he couldn’t even name.  His eyes stung and he realized a second later that tears were forming in them.

“No,” he said, his voice harsh and rasping.  He wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand, wincing as he did so.  That red-hot feeling must have been pain.  Great.  Now he would need to explain how he’d hurt himself when someone noticed.  They would notice.  Someone always did.

“Ezra?”

Ezra jumped at the sound of the voice from behind him.  As he turned to face Hera, he quickly hid his injured hand behind his back, keeping his head down, hoping she wouldn’t see that he’d been crying.

“I heard something hitting against the ship,” Hera said.

Ezra felt his face grow hot with embarrassment.  He hadn’t been thinking.  If he had, he’d have realized someone would hear.

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Hera asked.  Her voice carried a level of concern Ezra didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing.

“Ezra, you can talk to me,” she said when he didn’t answer.

“It’s nothing,” Ezra said, the response coming out almost automatically.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Hera said.

Ezra’s mouth pressed into a line as he tugged at the end of one sleeve with the opposite hand.  He realized too late that both hands were front of him now and Hera would be able to see the bruises on his right hand.

“It’s those kids,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.  Shame burned in his chest at the admission.  “I can’t stop thinking about…about what the Inquisitors might have done to them.  They would’ve hurt them.  They might’ve killed them.”

“They can't do anything to them now,” Hera said.  “Thanks to you.”

“I know,” Ezra said.  “I know they’re safe now, but I can’t stop thinking about it and I…”

His voice broke off as he felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes again.  He kept his gaze fixed on the ground to avoid looking at Hera.  He heard her soft footsteps approaching and a second later, he found himself crumpling into her arms.  He leaned into the hug, shaking with anger and sorrow.

“I don’t want any other kids growing up like I did,” he said, his voice muffled from where his face was buried in her shoulder.  “But I know I can’t stop it from happening.”

“You _did_ stop it,” Hera said.  “You saved those two kids.”

“There could be others,” Ezra said.

“But you saved these two,” Hera said.  “Even if you can’t save the others, that’s two more kids who won't go through anything like what you did.”

Ezra didn’t say anything.  He knew on some level that Hera was right, and saving two kids was better than not being able to save any of them, but the thought that there could be others who were too far out of their reach to be helped was like a weight on his chest.

“You did good, Ezra,” Hera said.  “And those kids are safe now and they’re gonna stay safe because of what you and Kanan and Zeb did.”

Ezra shut his eyes for a second, taking comfort in the feeling of Hera’s strong arms and presence around him.  She almost felt like… _Mom._   Hera’s arms tightened around him almost like she’d somehow sensed what he’d thought.

The moment ended as Ezra stepped back and pulled away, guilt gnawing away inside his chest.

“Please don’t tell Kanan about this,” Ezra said.

“Kanan won't judge you for crying,” Hera told him.

“I know,” Ezra said.  “I just don’t want him to worry.”

Hera laid a hand against Ezra’s cheek, giving a small smile as she brushed away the tears staining his face.

“Time was you’d be more worried about him hurting you than worrying about you,” she said.

Ezra shrugged.  She seemed proud of him, and Ezra wasn’t sure he liked her being proud of him for _that._

“It’s a good thing, Ezra,” she said, turning to the side, slinging an arm around his shoulders, and leading him back to the _Ghost_.  “You’re not as scared of him as you used to be.”

As they walked into the ship’s cargo hold, Hera stepped away from Ezra, gently taking his injured hand and examining it.

“You need ice,” she said.  “Come on.”

Ezra followed her up the ladder and into galley.  By now, he knew better than to argue with any member of the crew when they thought something was wrong and he needed to take care of an injury.  Over the years, he’d learned to ignore all but the most serious ones, and the others, particularly Hera and Kanan, went out of their way to make sure he took care of himself.  He didn't always like it, but he knew they were usually right.

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe I was ever that scared of Kanan,” Ezra said as they entered the galley and Hera retrieved the medkit.

“I’m really glad you’re not anymore,” Hera said.  “You’ve come a long way since you first got here.”

Ezra wasn’t sure what he did to let Hera know what he was thinking, but when she turned around to face him, she looked puzzled.

“What is it?” she asked.

Ezra was quiet for a moment as he tried to figure out exactly how to say what was bothering him.

“Every time I think I’m doing better,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care, “something happens that just drags me back down again.”

“I know,” Hera said, cracking the cold pack and settling it over Ezra’s hand.  “It’s not fair.  You’re allowed to say that, you know.”

Ezra only shrugged and stared down at his injured hand.

“Kanan was right,” Hera said, an absent quality to her voice, like she wasn’t fully aware she was speaking out loud.  “This isn’t a good place for you to be working through any of this.”

Ezra’s head snapped up as he looked at Hera, panic rising in his throat, cutting off his air.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hera said quickly, wincing as she realized how that must have sounded.  “I don’t mean you shouldn’t be here.  I just wish we could do better.”

Ezra shook his head.

“You don’t have to do better,” he said, forcing the words out through the lump in his throat.  “It’s just hard sometimes.  But this is the happiest I’ve ever been since…”

“Your parents.”

Ezra nodded.

“You know,” Hera said, “if the reason you don’t talk much about them is because it hurts too much, that’s fine.  But if you’re afraid any of us would judge you for missing them, we never would.”

“It’s not that,” Ezra said.  “It’s…I don’t even know what it is.  I just know that every time I start to talk about them, or even think about them too much, I feel…”

His shoulders slumped as he realized he didn’t know what he felt.  He twitched slightly as he felt Hera’s hand on his shoulder, but didn’t pull away.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I think they’d be really proud of what you did today.”

And that’s when it clicked.  Hera’s hand on his shoulder, that warmth that spread from the point where she touched him, clashing against that cold, uneasy feeling in his chest, it made Ezra realize exactly what it was he was feeling.  Guilt.  His parents had loved him and kept him safe for as long as they could and now he’d found other people he thought of as family.

Hera seemed to pick up on Ezra’s discomfort and withdrew.

“Keep that on your hand for twenty minutes,” she told him, gesturing to his injury.

Ezra nodded, then stood up as he spoke.

“Thanks…” _Mom_ “…Hera.”


End file.
